Dec 20 2014

spun gold


the tangled webs

we weave

form the beauty

of life






Dec 18 2014

the simple intransigence
of hope {or, eight minutes}

Each flower defies the odds and pushes on.

We want to make the world our own, but there is no survival without constant adaptation. A rudimentary concept, yes, but we get all crafty about it, bury our heads in the sand, pretend we can send down roots and stay in one place forever. But the earth we stand on keeps revolving, and the sky we reach for is filled with light that is already older than we are, no matter how long we may live. Sunlight takes approximately eight minutes to reach the earth. The light from some of the stars we see is 400 hundred years old.

So if, for some reason, the sun ever goes out, we wouldn’t even know for eight whole minutes. A short grace period, yes, but I kind of like the magic in that.

Time may be full of tricks, but light remains steady.

Which makes it so much easier to stand alone in the dark, making wishes on stars that have already lived through more lifetimes than I can imagine. Silent witnesses to a multitude of births and deaths, joy and anguish, storm and smooth calm sea.

If you think that a flower is fragile, imagine what it takes to push up through dark soil more than 10 times your height, and reach for a sun that will always, just barely, outrun you.

Miracles and magic happen around us, all day, every day. No one ever said it would be easy. No on ever said we wouldn’t have to fight to stand in the light. No one ever said that anything lasts forever.

Each moment is precious.

And we forget that eighty thousand times a day.

So take one second and look at a flower. Or a baby just learning to walk. Or the old woman dragging her cart through the grocery store. Or even the young man, in such a hurry to get where he’s going, that forgets to hold the door for her.

I’m glad to find hope is so stubborn.





Dec 16 2014

the things that outlast us

i have ornaments older than i am
glass as thin as petal
reflecting the history of countless
christmas mornings
and endless summers
hid away
in the dark

more fragile than any egg
yet here they are

still whole


the simple mystery of time
is so damn complicated


but the whispers of love
they are wrapped in
allow them
to survive




Dec 13 2014

the sentinel of silence

A foot of snow this week as a tease for what lies ahead. Shoveling and roof-raking and admiring the magic that always comes with gently falling flakes and morning sunshine sparkle.

A white blanket of silence to cover all the ugliness, the grey, the mud of life, making it beautiful once again, at least on the surface.

Sometimes, skin deep is just enough to console you, just enough to make you smile little smiles, just enough to show you that hope is always waiting in the wings.

And life is always there , somewhere, even if you can’t see the green of grass and the pink of rose, it’s there.

Loss and regret swirl around my head as I move through the grief of an old friend’s death, a sweet soul the same age as me, far too young to be taken.

Everything looks different now.

There is so much silence.

This rabbit sits by my door, watching it all, offering no words of wisdom. But it’s okay, I don’t need words, his presence is enough.

The sky folds down around us and we wait.

Each snowflake, each life, each morning, unique and transient and lovely.

The wind howls.




Dec 11 2014

diving in

feet first

because i never have been
a good swimmer

and i wish i knew
how to tread water
or even how to float
belly up

with a smile for the sky
and a wish for every cloud

but i only know
how to sink

and the good thing

the good thing

is that each day is shallow and
the current
carries me forward
and swimming is not the only way
to get from here to there

but in between

in between

this tide of tears
shall wash me

in the silent crest
of clean




Dec 2 2014

we cling to hope
as if clouds had corners

it all hangs in the balance

of what we’re never quite sure

and color leaks
through everything

touching edges
still hoping
for the grey of silence

heartache rolls round
in great waves of destruction

i bleed
you bleed
we all bleed

and you can’t staunch the flow
of life
with an easy off bandage

any more
than you can breathe
when the air
fills with constants

this chair
that tree
a quick flash of smile

memories are never

always wears
the wrong dress
for the occasion

but underneath
the pulsing river
flows on

the currency of friction
driving us




Nov 27 2014

counting blessings

like rose petals


one for me

one for you

one for them

one for us




may your heart

and your table

be full






Nov 25 2014

a broken wing
remembers the wind

some days you have to cut off a limb
just to force new growth

prune out the broken bits and
wait for them to form fresh skin

cover old wounds
and choose the right spot
for opening veins

none of it makes you less whole

less beautiful

less valuable

your resilience is your strength

gathering force from every



wear your scars like a badge
of adornment

reach for the sky
with wide open arms

the stars will fall into
your humble embrace

and you will refuse
to hold them

their light on your skin
is always

and release is the salve
of time’s flight




Nov 22 2014

the language
of flowers {19}



letting go

really is

the best




Nov 20 2014

november runs through
with a cold cold heart


all prettied up and fancy plaited

and already I’m cowering inside

with an old woman’s bones

for company


an hour to the west

mother nature has unleashed

a winter’s worth of snow

and i keep thinking she’s trying

to tell us something

or punishing us

like naughty children for sassing her

all summer


these autumn mornings

wear all the wrong colors

and i drink tea that tastes

of endings